“Daddy?” she shouted as she attempted to rouse him by shaking him as hard as she could.
Though her body was much smaller than his, and his weight was too heavy to carry, she didn’t let that stop her and kept going.
“Daddy, wake up!”
While Naya screamed, her hoarse voice filled with agony, watching her father lie motionless. His body was cold, so cold. She couldn’t see his green eyes anymore, those eyes that reminded her of the forest they usually visited.
Why wasn’t he opening his eyes?
“P-please,” she hiccupped.
Her pleading turned into whimpers and filled the silence as tears trailed down her cheeks, mixing with the blood coating his black jacket that always smelled good, a scent she associated with love. Now, the only scent coming from the jacket was one of decay.
A sudden peal of laughter from behind her caused her to whirl around, but because of her tears, she couldn’t see clearly, though she could make out the woman’s well-bleached hair that was brushed to one side.
Despite the relatively dark apartment, the sunlight from outside seeped in through the window, and Naya found it strange how the sun could shine on people when the light inside her had been extinguished altogether.
She feared that the spark of joy within her might never ignite again.
Naya felt a knot in her stomach as she stared at the woman, and the horror of recognition began to sink in. The woman’s hair was coarse and thick, reminding her of a bird’s nest in its unkemptness. Her mother’s hair was always streaky and grew in pencil-sized spirals with tiny crinkles, reminding Naya of a homeless woman she usually saw outside a grocery store when her father took her to school in the early morning.
Her mother stood in the corner of the room. Blood was smeared everywhere, with handprints on the walls, making the otherwise white paint appear grotesque in the dark. Naya wanted to look away,neededto look away because she knew the image would be imprinted in her mind forever if she didn’t shut it off completely. But she couldn’t tear her gaze away from it. That laughter she heard earlier reverberated in her ears, a sound Naya would have assumed was a cheerful laugh, yet how could her mother find amusement in her daughter’s misery?
Naya watched as the woman–not recognizing her as her mother anymore–sat in front of the far too bloody piano, a sharp knife in front of her. Her body froze with fear, and she wanted nothing more than to curl up in the corner. All she wanted to do was hug her father and see his beautiful eyes full of life, not those dulled ones. Naya screamed until nothing was left inside her, her insides torn open for the world to inspect. The woman stared at her, a smirk gracing her lips and blood covering her entire body, but Naya knew that the blood wasn’t her mother’s. Naya’s mouth tasted sour when she saw the greasy red stains that had already sunk into her mother’s clothes.
As the scene unfolded before Naya, she saw how brutal the person who committed such acts had become, as it was a gory, unnerving one. With slowed steps, the woman walked closer to Naya, who refused to let go of her father’s lifeless body. She felt like her entire heart had been ripped out of her chest, and she had nothing left to live for. Her father lay unmoving as her mother’s footsteps echoed closer. Unlike anything she had ever experienced, a terror settled over her as she realized her mother was walking closer to her with the knife in her red-stained hands.
“Oh, my sweet child,” the woman whispered into the silence when Naya’s whimpers stopped.
She felt her body slump against her father’s, wanting to join him in death and be free from her mother. She knew her mother was not a good person, but she never thought she had such a vicious nature. Naya was so consumed by her emptiness that her senses dulled, and she lost track of her surroundings.
When she opened her eyes again, she found herself inside a dark closet, with the woman’s laughter echoing outside before she heard the melodic sound of a piano. She could not push open the doors, and the blood seeped into the space, drowning her in it.
The piano melody continued to play, and as reality truly came crashing down on her, she realized that there was only one thing left to do.
She would kill her mother someday. It was the only way she could get her father’s justice.
Chapter 1
Naya
present day
Grimhill Manor.
Two horrendous words that are only meant to cause pain and despair for those who ever come across them. Two words that don’t even come close to describing the place. It’s merely a simple and innocent name that doesn’t draw any attention from the authorities, allowing them to do whatever they please without consequences.
‘Purgatory Manor’would be a more fitting name, especially after all the tortured souls who have passed through these halls, sinners who have been taken to hell, never to be remembered again.
Nothing good ever comes out of being one of them. One of all the broken dolls inside this manor. We are pawns in a game much more extensive than anyone could ever anticipate. Do I even remember my name?
Naya.
But is that even my real name?
The one I grew up with?
I can’t recognize my surroundings anymore. I’m stuck in a place where nothing and everything exist at the same time. Some of the braver children dare to call this place a hell house, a place where the most innocent souls are made into wicked ones–losing everything good in them. Some say they hear children crying from the basement in the middle of the night, but we aren’t allowed down there. It’s a place where punishments are served.